


Ivory Keys

by triptocaine



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Iris West owns a speakeasy, Leonard Snart plays the piano, M/M, Main pairing Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Rated M for later Chapters, Romance, Slow Build, i did a lot of research for this fic holy crap, side pairings, so much jazz, sorta - Freeform, this is campy as all hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triptocaine/pseuds/triptocaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1929, jazz age and flappers still line the streets. Leonard Snart is fresh out of jail and just wants a drink. What he doesn't expect to come across is a job, a place to stay for a while, and a new found infatuation with a young jazz singer named Barry Allen. Though the jazz days may be over soon enough when certain people, and certain times, threaten everything they have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Naked Martini

**Author's Note:**

> Naked Martini:  
> 3 oz. Gin  
> Pour gin into a chilled martini glass. Put into freezer until well chilled. Garnish with an olive and serve immediately.
> 
>  
> 
> First things first! I am using this: http://local.aaca.org/bntc/slang/slang.htm list for my slang, in case anyone wants to brush up. The other thing: some of the songs and the timeline doesn't quite match up. Some songs are being performed before they hit the radio in the 1920's timeline. Oops. I am however, sticking to songs that came out in 1928-1929. Most of them will be Louis Armstrong, maybe some Bing Crosby. This is really campy, though it's kind of hard to say 'the bees knees' and NOT sound campy. This is mostly sticking to the universe of the show, and not so much the comics.
> 
> And yeah, I actually got this idea from a commercial that Wentworth Miller was in where he played the piano (Korean commercial for French coffee???), and the fact that Grant Gustin was in Glee. Soooo, everything added up. I just needed a time and place. The 1920's was my victim.
> 
> I have been listening to St. Louis Blues on repeat since 10 this morning.  
> I hope this is good.

                _Fssssht._

                The sound of a match striking caught the attention of blue eyes as they turned from an empty road to the low-burning flame. A few seconds, and then it was gone. A short lived flame. Beautiful, enigmatic, but oh so deadly.

                _Fssssht._

                Another was lit that caused the blue eyes to roll and move back to the empty road.

                “You should look into getting one of the Ronson Pist-o-Liter’s Mick,” cold lips spoke, matching the icy eyes. “It’ll last you longer than those things.”

                “Maybe I will,” Mick, the fire-holder spoke in return. “After I get more dough… what’ll you be doin’ in the meantime?”

                “We’re free men, Mick,” the frigid man began to walk down the sidewalk, only once looking over his shoulder. “I’m going to get myself a hooch. Be seeing you.”

                Fixing putting his hands into his pockets, the man continued away from his friend, heading into the heart of Central City. The days were starting to get hotter as summer approached, but the nights were still cool, just the way he enjoyed them.

                Streetlights lit the pathways and empty roads. Very few people were walking about, a few dolled up gals that the cold man simply tipped his hat two as they walked off giggling. A smirk hit his lips as he moved his way further into the city, keeping his face mostly hidden beneath the hat.

More and more people started to show up, all in their glad rags and smiles on their faces. Good to see things hadn’t changed since he last walked these streets. Well, maybe a bit more smiling, but he’d end up fixing that at some point. Just not tonight. Tonight was for drinking.

                “Excuse me! Sorry! Pardon me! Coming through!”

                There was a voice from further down to road, on the opposite sidewalk. Out of the corner of those blue eyes, the man spotted a red blur running down the street. Catching a better glimpse, he concluded it wasn’t a red blur, but in fact what looked like a young man in a red suit pushing through the few people on the streets, trying to get somewhere. Somewhere important it seemed.

                He paid no attention, and kept moving. He kept his ears open for any sign of jazz music, anything he could recognize. While his time in prison wasn’t exactly fun, Iron Heights at least gave them music. Every day during lunch, jazz music. He memorized the piano keys and tunes, hopefully one day going to be able to play those ivory keys once more.

                His train of thought was cut short as his shoulder was knocked and something slid _into_ his pocket. Normally pick pockets were the other way around. Before he got the chance to turn around and talk the guy up, the man was already gone. Pulling the card from his pocket, he looked at it, bringing it over to the light.

                Nothing.

                “Thanks Mister,” he grumbled. “Ain’t you just balled up…”

                He was about to put the card into the trash bin nearby before he spotted a slight flicker off of it. Tilting it, he gave a smirk and a scoff. Lifting the card up to the light, words formed. Faintly, but he could still read them. The words ‘Jitters Joint’ and an address just below them. And a password it seemed. He gave another scoff as he slipped the card into his pocket and started heading towards the address.

                He knew the place well, but only by Jitters Java. They had his favorite brew there. A dark Ethiopian blend. Though he’d never shown his face for it. Only had someone get it for him. It was one of the few places that he’d like to keep around in this city. Now knowing it was a speakeasy, only made him want to protect it more.

                Rounding the corner, he spotted a couple go behind the building, a few whispers shared between them. The entrance must be in the back. Didn’t need any bull’s running around trying to find the place.

                Getting closer, he could smell the smoke coming from below, and could hear the feint sound of a piano and a clarinet playing sweet, sweet tunes. Coming up to the door, he was stopped by a man with dark hair and a strong build.

                “Do I know you?” the man asked. “Or do you know me?”

                The cold man pulled out the small card with the hidden message on it and handed it to the bouncer. Cold lips gave a smirk as he started to head towards the door, pushing the man aside.

                “Now you’re on the trolley,” the cold man said as the bouncer fully stepped aside. Walking down to wooden steps of the joint, the cold man fixed his suit jacket and scoped the place out. Many patrons, looked like a fairly full bar. Two men, both Latino most likely, working away at the piano and clarinet. It did look like the pianist might have been a little drunk. And by little, he meant a lot.

                As he reached the bottom step, a young red headed girl made her way towards him, a large and toothy grin plastering her face.

                “Welcome there stranger!” she smiled. “Table or bar?”

                The cold lips gave a smirk.

                “Bar, if you will, thanks doll,” he returned. With a smile, the young woman led him towards the bar, a sashay in her walk, the fringe of her dress swaying lovely.

                “Not hats sir, house rules,” the girl stated as she pointed to an open seat at the bar. The cold man returned with a shake of his head.

                “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep it on for just a little longer,” he started. The young woman turned her face to another woman, dark-skinned and golden eye shadow. She gave a small wave to the redheaded woman and walked up to the man.

                “You’re new here,” she began. “You from out of town?”

                “Oh I’m from here alright,” the man started. “Just been… separate for a while. Just got back tonight.”

                “First one’s on me then,” the woman stated as she held her hand out as an introduction. “Name’s Iris West. I run this joint. What’ll you have?”

                “Leonard. But please, call me Len,” the man returned, taking the hand offered to him and shaking it. “Thanks for the free one. I’ll have a gin, on the rocks, extra cold.”

                Releasing their hands, the woman gave a smile and nod as she headed to the backend of the bar to fill one of the glasses to the brim with ice. As the gin was handed to him, he gave a sip of the cold drink, a smile hitting his lips as he looked down at it. His first drink out of prison. Tasted better than he could ever hope for.

                “You’ve got a swell place here Ms. West,” Leonard let out as he turned a little to take the whole place it. It wasn’t really just a bar, there was a small stage and the two-man band next to it.

                “It’ll be the bees knees in just a second if you keep watch on the—“

                Iris was cut off by the piano being slammed on angrily. Both her and Lens, and most of the bars attention picking up on the sound. A few angry words were shouted in Spanish, a glass was thrown to the ground, and the pianist was stumbling towards the stairs.

                “Dante! Wait!” Iris shouted, rushing out from behind the bar and heading over to the too drunk man. “Dante what’s eating you? Dante!” And Iris was up the stairs, trying to keep the man steady as to not fall over. The other Latino man stood there in awe over by the piano, clutching his clarinet.

                Len took a moment as the silence around him tried to face, folks picking up conversation again as they turned away from the band pit. Blue eyes looked down at the cold drink as he stood up from the barstool and made his way over to the piano.

                “Uh, sir,” the younger male piped up, his hands shaking and a few tears welling. “Sir you can’t be her—“

                “What am I playing?” Len asked, a sharpness in his voice as he placed his drink down on the top of his drink on the stage, still within reach. “Well?”

                “Uh… you know… Armstrong?” the young man asked, still shook up from the debacle.

                “Which song?” Len asked in return.

                “St. Louis Blues,” he replied.

                “Relax, kid,” Len started as he gave his fingers a quick warm up with a few scales. Turning, he reached out a hand. “Leonard, yours?”

                “Cisco,” the young man responded as he shook the others.

                “Well Cisco,” Len turned back to the piano. “Tell me when.”

                He looked up to the stage, moving to grab his drink to sip it, hand pausing as he caught a pair of hazel-green eyes on looking from behind the curtain. As if shocked, the on looker moved away, almost seeming to be ashamed of the deed they were doing. Giving a smirk, Leonard grabbed his drink and took a sip, shaking the harsh liquid down and placing it back on the stage.

                Soon enough, Iris was back, pushing the redheaded woman onto the stage. Hesitantly, the young woman walked up onto it and cleared her throat. Pulling the microphone closer to her, she knocked on it a couple times.

                “Everyone! Hello! Hello!” she grinned trying to hide the fact that, Leonard could only assume, their pianist just left on them. But soon enough the patrons in joint all turned towards the stage, their attention on the woman.

                “My name is Caitlin!” she grinned, getting back into the hang of thing. “There’s no need to worry about the performance being canceled. The show will go on! The show is happening. And I would like everyone to put your hands together for the one, the only, the best jazz and fastest scat singer here in Central City, Mr. Barry Allen!”

                As Caitlin left the stage, Leonard quietly took his hat off, placing it on the stage next to his drink as the patrons of the joint clapped and whistled a little to give whoever this Barry Allen was some motivation. He did have to admit, the intro for him sounded forced. Perhaps he was never one for someone else to introduce him, but it seemed different on these parts.

                As the cheering died down a little, there came a cough from Cisco, signifying the ready to go. Len placed his fingers over the ivory keys, having missed the cold touch they had on his fingers. Inhale, exhale. A sharp inhale from behind him, and those first four notes were a go.

                Instantly Len’s fingers were pushing down on the keys, putting out the chords and tunes he needed for the song, adding in some of his own extra flare to fill in what they didn’t have for instrumentals. The intro went on for a couple moments before out stepped a rather… keen young man, a bit of sheik, if Len dared moved out onto the stage dressed in a red suit and had a little bit of a dance to his step.

                Backwards walking, a twist, a spin, and at the microphone he was, teeth clicking and lips moving away. Leonard never heard someone scat to this piece before, but then again it’s been a night for new things it seemed.

                The song continued and Leonard deemed that this man was as Iris said. He was able to move and glide with ease like he owned the stage, all while singing and scatting away. The patrons seemed to love him, some of them getting up to dance along with him, others snapping and keeping the beat up, others tapping their feet and sipping their drinks.

                When the lyrics picked up, normally filled with Armstrong’s hard and gravelly voice, was now smooth, sweet, young, hotsy-totsy. Len would admit, he never heard this song performed this way, and he was getting a little mesmerized from staring up at this scarlet speedster. And as distracting as this Barry Allen was, his fingers never pressed the keys the wrong way, or playing off beat.

                As the song came to an end with Allen’s voice matching that of Cisco’s clarinet, Leonard could feel shivers run up and down his arms as they hit the final note. He took his hands away from the ivory keys as the patrons stood and clapped, a number of them shouting or whistling. This seemed to be a thing that happened. This Barry Allen seemed to be a bit more popular than Leonard anticipated.

                “Thanks everybody,” the young man, Barry Allen stated out to the crowd that had actually grown bigger since Leonard showed up. “Enjoy your drinks.” Barry gave them a wave of his hand before he moved over to the edge of the stage, grabbed Len’s hat and gracefully slipped down and moved to sitting on the stage, flipping the hat up and placing it on his head with a grin.

                “You’re new,” he stated.

                “Seems that way, yes,” Len responded as he looked up the young man. “You’re previous player up and left in a jazzed anger.”

                “Uhm, that was my brother, and he was yelling about the piano being out of tune,” Cisco popped in. Leonard turned his head and one-overed Cisco for the first time.

                “Well if he comes back, I’ll give this piano up, but if he doesn’t, this seat’s mine,” Len responded. He turned back to the young jazz singer sitting on the stage and childishly kicking his legs, the hat on his head too big for him.

                “You play really well,” Barry continued. “What’s your name?”

                “Leonard!” it was Iris who joined over in their party. “That was amazing! Had I known you played like that, I would’ve given you the whole bar! You don’t get many piano players around here that are _that_ amazing.”

                “Yeah, I mean, while Dante is cooling down after his outburst, why don’t you be our piano guy for a while?” Barry chimed in before looking over Len’s shoulder. “That alright with you Cisco?”

                “The guy’s the real McCoy,” Cisco stated, cleaning out part of his clarinet. “He likes jazz better than my brother. I say yes!”

                “Well then Leonard,” Iris extended her hand out. “Welcome to Jitters Joint. You’ll get a fair share of tip at the end of the night for your pay. I’ll be talking to you about some rules later on in the evening when we start to close.”

                Leonard gave the best not-so-cold grin he could as he shook Iris’s hand before turning back to the jazz singer who had a wide grin on his face.

                “So… Leonard,” Barry began, and as he opened his mouth to say something, Leonard cut him off.

                “Len for short, Scarlet,” he quickly put in. There came a snap from behind Len as Cisco stood.

                “Scarlet…! Stage name Bar!” and off Cisco went, pulling Iris along who gave a giggle and followed the young man off towards Caitlin to talk about it most likely.

                “Scarlet, huh?” Barry smiled as he took the hat off of his head and flipped it around before putting it back on. “I like it. Much better than the other name Iris had for me. ‘The Streak’.”

                Len gave a chuckle at the awful nickname that had been thought about. What a name to put on the posters and billboards. ‘Come see the Streak! Live!’ Though the joints name wouldn’t be up until that damned act was abolished. And Len was hoping sooner than later.

                “So Len,” Barry gave a grin as he rested his arms on his elbows. “Why come here?”

                As Barry started asking questions, Len dragged his fingers across the keys, so close to intimate he might as well had called the piano his lover. A few hits, and he was starting to play a tune, soft, but smooth. Ambiance.

                “I was out of this city for some time,” Len began, half keeping his eyes on the keys, half on Barry. “I wanted a gin. I would have taken any bootlegged joint around here. This was the place I happened to stumble upon. Maybe for good reason. Just a coincidence.”

                “Y’think so?” Barry returned as he gently rocked to the sound of the keys being played away. “Though I feel like I know you from somewhere. You been on the news lately?”

                “I just…” Len gave a smirk, turning his gaze down to the piano once more. “I’ve got one of those faces. But you, Scarlet. I’m a bit interested in you.”

                The two started talking as Len played away on the piano. Len learned that Barry was taking a few classes and starting singing halfway through it as a joke and was instantly sent to a music professional to get his voice to work. And he even wanted to go into the cop business.

                Though every time Barry asked a question about Len, the older man would turn it away, change the subject, or turn it to be a question about Barry. The young man did seem to be put off by it, but didn’t tell off Len, or tell him to scram once.

                And the night went on. Cisco coming over every once in a while and the three of them putting on a quick number, Barry doing his thing, Cisco playing the clarinet like a pro and Len being where he’s always loved to be. The patrons would listen, clap, and return to their drinks. After a while, the customers would start leaving, leaving their tips and pennies on the tables, waving good bye to Iris.

                Len had to admit: the fact that Iris was able to hide this large of an establishment underneath a java house was beyond him. He did have to give her credit for being able to do that. But the last name West did give him an idea that she might already have some strings pulled.

                As the bar closed up, and Iris was taking tab of what there was, Cisco, Caitlin, Barry and Caitlin’s fiancé, Ronnie, were going over the rules with him about the speakeasy. There was no talking about it until it opened at night. More patrons were regulars and brought friends with them, so no advertising (Len had to wonder who his advertiser was then). And that Barry only sang three times a night, so as to not destroy his voice. Cisco would play with Len ten times a night, and Len would do ambience for the rest of the time they were open. The pay was given to him already. About three dollars. At this rate, this well, he may be able to afford a new apartment.

                Most everyone left except for Iris, Barry and Len himself. He was planning on seeing if he could sneak by and be able to sleep back stage for the night. He was sure his apartment from before was already ransacked, turned over, painted a-new and moved into by some other bachelor. He placed his hat on as Iris headed up the stairs first.

                “So… where do you live?” Barry asked, still trying to play that game. Len looked over the youth, sizing him up a bit.

                “Right now?” he responded. Barry rolled his eyes.

                “Yeah, I guess?” he returned.

                “Wherever I can find a bed,” Len said truthfully. “Sold my apartment before I went away for a while. Don’t exactly have much anymore.”

                “Do you need a place to stay for the night? I got an extra couch and some pillows,” Barry started, a large grin on his face. “It might be a bit better than being outside. And maybe tomorrow I can help you find a new place? It’s the least I can do since you basically just saved this joint.”

                Len tilted his head so he could see those hazel-green eyes of the young singer, give a tilted smile and a low glance.

                “I’d like that, Scarlet,” he responded, smiling only a little more when the grin on Barry’s face grew. Barry started going on about different apartments in different parts of Central City, about which districts were better or not as they both headed up the stairs.

                “For the last time Dr. Wells!” it was Iris’s voice and she seemed very upset. “I am not selling this building to you. Not now, not ever! I don’t want you, or your gents comin’ up to my place thinkin’ I’m some push-over! No matter how much jack you offer me, I ain’t sellin’!”

                “Miss West,” a new voice to Len, most like this ‘Dr. Wells’ character. “You’re thinking of this all wrong. I don’t want to buy the whole place, I want to offer you a business deal. Something you won’t say no to.”

                “So you can what?” Iris again, more fiery. “Make it into some big-name brand for your research? Destroy my life? Nu-uh! Not today, not ever! Now you better beat it before I call up my father and have you forced away from this place for good!”

                “Miss West—“

                At this point both Barry and Len had reached the top of the stairs, the younger man running up to Iris and gently taking her shoulders to calm her and separate her eye contact with this Dr. Wells man. Len took the time to size him up. Older-looking man, may be in his mid-forties, in a rather nice looking wheelchair.

                “Hey, hey, woah, Iris, don’t be a bearcat, alright?” Barry was trying to calm the raged woman down, successful only to the point where she stormed off.

                “I will see you tomorrow Barry!” was her final words before the only thing that could be heard were her heels clicking until they face away around the corner.

                “Mr. Allen, I presume you’ll talk to her,” Dr. Wells again. Len’s great judge of character went haywire on this man just from the way he looked at Iris and Barry. Barry didn’t answer before he turned, locked to door, shoved the key into his pocket, grabbed Len’s wrist and started to pull him away from the man in the wheelchair.

                “Should I even ask?” Len started, and when he got silence as an answer, he took that as a yes. Though the situation seemed to be clean cut from their conversation. Len was finally given his arm back as the two of them headed off towards Barry’s place.

                “I gotta say,” Len broke the silence. “You sure trust easily. While a good trait, it can also destroy you. Be careful with that trait.”

                Barry gave a shrug as he walked up to one of the larger building doors and pulled out a set of keys, unlocking it.

                “I try to see the best in people, y’know?” he started, letting Len inside. “Besides, you don’t yell at me like Dante did when I messed up. He’s a good guy, just bad when he’s plastered is all. And ‘sides, a couch is better than the ground.”

                Barry did make a good point. As they made their way up to the young man’s apartment, Len took in his surroundings and followed him up. Once inside, Barry kicked his shoes off and put his jacket on the back of one of the small kitchen table chairs. It was a small space. A kitchenette with a little table, a couch not too far from it, and two doors. One, he assumed went to the bedroom, the other the bathroom. Nice place he had.

                “Couch is yours for the night,” Barry began as he started to get himself out of his suspenders and socks. “I usually don’t cook breakfast, ‘cause Jitters Java makes one mean omelet before 10.”

                “I’ll cook for you,” Len started. “You’re giving me free housing, I’ll make breakfast tomorrow. As long as there’s eggs, cheese and some other things, I can make you somethin’ nice.”

                “Well, that’s great!” Barry stumbled for a moment as he headed towards his door. “Uhm, I’ll be in here if you need me… ever. Y-yeahahaa…” His ‘yeah’ at the end there was more of an awkward laugh as he opened the door and went inside his room. The last thing Len heard was a quick stumble and something closing.

                He gave a huff as he started to undress himself and fluff out the small pillows on the couch. As he was shirtless, the door to Barry’s room opened up, him in a very large sweater and a couple pillows and extra blanket in his hands.

                “Sorry!” he exclaimed as the pillows and blanket were thrown over to the pianist, hitting the back of the couch. Len looked down at the fallen bed pieces before arching an eyebrow at Barry, who was now closing his door, shouting ‘night!’ from the other side of the door. Len gave a soft laugh as he set the couch up to his liking.

                Laying down, he stared up at the ceiling, pointing out all the discolorations on it from previous water stains or just any stain in general. He went in for a gin, came out with a job.

                What a swell time to be alive.


	2. Dubonnet Cocktail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubonnet Cocktail:  
> \- 1 1/2 oz. Dubonnet Rouge Aperitif Wine (or homemade spiced Red Wine)  
> \- 3/4 oz. Gin  
> \- dash(es) Bitters  
> \- dash(es) Grenadine (optional)  
> Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the twist of a lemon peel and serve.
> 
>  
> 
> Three months ago I said I was going to update this fic. And instead, I updated LiaE. I finally kept my promise. I fixed the amount of slang in the fic, so hopefully it's more bearable. I almost felt like I had to go in and add more slang because it didn't quite match the first chapter. And after writing this chapter I realized how much of it was filler for flirting.

                The next month was surprisingly not as hard as Len had originally thought they would be. Here he thought picking the piano back up would have been difficult for all that time he had done in prison, and yet his immersion went much smoother than he anticipated. The tips came in, the pay was nice, and the couch that Barry offered ended up being a bit more permanent than originally bargained.

                Their apartment hunting for a place for Len to live was going a little less than fine. Places were expensive, others were far too plain, too far from the bar, and everything in between. So Len stayed on the couch for the time being. It was cozy, the view was nice, both from the window and into the small room for Barry, as well as easy pay and he got to cook again.

                Eggs were cheap, so that’s all Len cooked in the morning while waiting for hot water to boil to use for coffee, or in Len’s case, jut lemon. It was always when the first egg hit the sizzling pan that Barry would rustle in his bed, waking up and shift around in his room to put on some clothes before walking out with some half-thrown on clothes and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

                “Yay,” he sleepily hummed. “You’re cooking again.”

                “What else would I do?” Len responded. “You have a kitchen, very _luxurious_ I would say.”

                Barry gave a weak smile before walking over to Len and resting his head on his bicep. He yawned, leaning against the other as the kettle started to whistle. Reaching over, Len picked the kettle up and watched as Barry’s body swayed with his arm.

                “You gonna be good for the day Scarlet? Or should I carry you into work tonight?” Len started, giving a smirk.

                “Carrying would be nice, but that’s not for another…”

                “Ten hours,” Len finished.

                “Yeah, that.”

                Barry lifted a hand and made a quick gun hand motion, pointing it at Len as the older man gave a laugh.

                Breakfast was served as the two sat on the couch and ate in peace, Barry occasionally yawning and giving soft hums in appreciation. When he plate was put down, the youth jumped to his feet and over the couch, causing Len to furrow his brow as he turned to watch the singer run into his room and quickly change into some casual clothes.

                “…how…” was the first thing to come from Len’s mouth as he watched the youth move too fast for someone who was yawning two second before. At least it got him a free show of the other’s lean body.

                “Come on, get dressed!” Barry called out.

                “Why.” Len’s question came out more of a statement with a bitter displeased lingering taste of ‘no’.

                “Iris wanted me to head out and go look for some now fabric for the stage, plus she wanted some new light bulbs for the bar, we’ve got a couple busted ones. And we gotta make a deposit.”

                “Calm down live wire,” Len started as he pushed himself up. Placing their plates and mugs on the counter and going over to his small corner of clothes. Getting dressed, he waited for the singer to finish up everything he needed to do before the two began to head out.

                It was unusually warm for an early August day, normally the heat had become scorching enough to warrant not wearing a suit jacket. But there they were in a debatable comfortable 78 degrees kinda day. But it made for a comfortable walking day. It seemed they weren’t the only ones who thought it was a beautiful day. Many people were out and walking around, beautiful women, handsome men, cars with their windows open and people on bikes moving around.

                Their first stop was the bank, which got Len on edge.

                “If it’s all the same to you Scarlet,” Len started. “I’d prefer if I stayed out here and waited.”

                “You sure? Y’need anything while I’m in there?” Barry asked as he pulled out the envelope with the deposit he needed to make.

                “I’m good Scarlet. Just don’t take too long, I hate being separated from you for lengths of time.”

                At that, Len gave a wink and a smirk towards the flustered singer rushing himself inside.

                As Len stayed outside, he tipped his hat towards the few couples that passed him, giving a few good mornings and how do you dos. How civil. Reminded him of how much Mick hated those sorts of interactions. He hadn’t seen Mick in a while, suddenly wondering his state of well-being and chuckling to himself because he most likely got himself back in jail.

                When a gust of wind blew by, like a dog, he caught a familiar scent. Well, not a familiar one, but a very distinct one. Vanilla, incense, orange, balsam wood. He turned to his left to see a woman walking away from him and across the street, with brown curls bouncing. As her face turned towards him, there was suddenly a hand on his elbow.

                “Y’good?” Barry’s voice. Len turned to the youth and back, having lost the woman in the crowd of walkers.

                “Swell,” Len responded. He gave a quick grin as the two started to head off again. Barry pulled out the envelope of money again, counting through the few dollars he had there.

                “We’ve got about… four dollars for the lights and fabric,” Barry started. “We usually get the fabric from this remnants place for cheap.”

                Len gave a nod, the brown locks of hair bouncing as the woman walked still in his mind. He only knew one woman who wore that perfume that heavily during summer. Or kept her hair that long and curly when most women decided to cut it all off or keep it hidden in a bun.

                But the last time he saw her was before he was sent to jail and she had gotten herself a handful of gold. He snapped out of his trance again when he got a harsh tug on his arm, knocking him into walking a different direction. The fabric store. Len walked right past it and didn’t hear Barry calling out for him.

                “Mornin’ gentlemen!” the woman from behind the counter chimed, a grin on her face. “Can I help you find anythin’?”

                “Mornin’ doll,” Len responded as Barry went up to the front counter. The youth was way too excited it seemed to be out on the town, and Len wondered how his energy wasn’t wasted by the time he needed to be on stage. The singer never ceased to amaze ex-con.

                “I’ve got a dollar fifty with your name on it if you can help me find something for my sister,” Barry grinned. “She’s lookin’ for something that’ll add some character to a room without takin’ away from its dark wood floors and hanging lights. Whaddya got?”

                “Warm or cool tones?” the woman responded.

                “Cold, what do you think Len? To match that room of hers?” Barry turned and grinned at the older male who had been standing by the entrance the whole time without thinking of coming in. Walking up to the two, he gave a thoughtful hum.

                “Well she’s got that super keen scarlet figurine in there,” Len smirked as he watched Barry’s cheeks light up. “If we go cold it’ll add some contrast. And with those new lights we’re plannin’ on getting her, the cool won’t look so dark.”

                “Cold tone it is then!” Barry’s voice cracked as the woman smiled and clasped her hands together. She led the two over to a section of fabric where there was a dark blue that reminded Len of the jacket he used to wear when he and Mick went out for a night of danger.

                “Think Iris’ll like it Len?” Barry asked as he pulled it up, holding the fabric close to him.

                “Looks good,” Len responded. “Definitely adds something to help that sweet scarlet pop even a bit more.”

                This was point number four it seemed for Len today on his flirting game. He wouldn’t deny Barry was a looker, with a few assets he didn’t mind looking away from behind. But flirting might only ever be as far as it’ll get. And Len was fine with that. But those bright red blushes didn’t help.

                About six yards was purchased at a dollar and thirty-nine cents. The change went back into the envelope and back into his pocket. Carrying the bag of fabric out, the two men thanked the woman and headed back out to the streets.

                The walk to the hardware store wasn’t all too far when Len got led into another store as Barry went to the corner of light bulbs and grabbed the three he needed. Well, that was surprisingly easy to get. But not as much fun for Len to tease Barry more. The light bulbs were purchased with the rest of their cash, leaving about fifty cents left.

                “That’s enough to go get some hot pretzels and a soda,” Barry grinned as the two walked out of the store.

                “Goodie,” Len said with a false cheer.

                “You don’t like pretzels?”

                “Never was really fond of the memories they brought with them.”

                “Well… what happened?”

                “Another story for another day that isn’t in public Barry.”

                “Alright, then what about some hot dogs?”

                “Shouldn’t you be putting the rest of that money in the back and not spending it here?”

                “Well, I already made the major deposit from the past week, and we don’t have to tell Iris that there was any leftover change.”

                “Ooh, Barry, is that a dark side coming through your goody-two-shoes exterior?”

                Barry became a little flustered again, furrowing his brow and gripping the two bags of supplies a bit more.

                “Well. I mean—“ the singer tried to correct himself.

                “I think I like it,” Len responded as they got closer to the pier. Seeing the different stands of food sellers sent a sour taste to his mouth, causing a small grimace on his face, tugging his lips into a straight line.

                One quick glance towards the pretzel stand made him want to leave and head back to the apartment more. But he once more spotted the flouncy curls in the distance. He slowed his walk, coming to a stop. The woman turned around, soft cheeks and button nose came into view.

                “Who are you looking at?” Barry asked, having come back to stand next to Len.

                It wasn’t her.

                “No one,” Len turned back to the singer. “Well, hot dog?”

                The rest of the day was relaxed. The two had gotten their lunch before sitting out by the pier for a while and talking, mainly Barry talking about Iris and him growing up together. A story Len has heard a couple of times, but didn’t mind not being the center of attention. When the clock struck five, the two headed back to the apartment.

                The first ten minutes back in the apartment was silent, and Len could give two reasons why: the flirting, or the story of why he didn’t like salted pretzels. Either way, Barry wasn’t making eye contact as the two cleaned up some and changed into their night outfits. Barry’s unforgettable scarlet red suit, and Len’s nicer suit and hat.

                The walk to the joint was quiet and Barry still wasn’t making eye contact. But they were the first two there, getting out the ladder and putting in the new bulbs for the hanging lights. It definitely brightened the place up. The fabric stayed on the stage. They would let Iris and Caitlin figure that out.

                And when Barry was placing martini glasses and rocks glasses into their cooler, Len grabbed one of Barry’s wrists and turned him around, pressing the singer’s lower back into the bar table. Eye contact was finally made.

                “Ah, was wondering where you’d gone off to,” Len stated. He noted the red growing on Barry’s cheeks.

                “Where did I go?” Barry asked, voiced cracking again.

                “Well, after lunch you seemed to have stopped talking to me, or looking me in the eye. Penny for your thoughts, Scarlet.”

                “Uh… well. Uhm.”

                The blush on his face started to match the color of his suit. Len pulled away when they both heard the door upstairs open up. The two kept eye contact before Iris let out an all too happy exclamation.

                “Is this the fabric you guys got me?” she chimed. She turned to the two men, Barry finally turning around and seeing her face light up at the color.

                “You… like it?” Barry managed to get out. He tugged at his sleeves, Len moving to put more glasses into the cooler.

                “It’s getting me all goofy! I love it!” She gave another huge grin. She went up to the bar and wrapped her arms around Barry’s neck from over the counter. “Ooooh, thank you thank you! I’ll go get some nails to drape this over across the stage! Oh, Dad’s coming tonight, make sure the red wine is sitting with the rosemary tonight.”

                “You got it!” Barry hugged back. When the hug ended, he watched Iris run off to one of the supply closets behind the stage. Turning around, he was once again met by Lens gaze.

                “I-I don’t want to talk about it with Iris here,” Barry whispered, his hand brushing against Len’s. “But I will say that we can talk tonight back at our place. It’s… I-I guess an intimate question.”

                “Intimate?”

                “Barry!” Iris called from behind the stage. “Where’s the longer nails? Or did we run out and I hadn’t noticed?”

                “They’re on the lower shelf remember?” he called back. “Cisco kept knocking them over so we moved them lower.”

                A pause.

                “Found them!” and silence again.

                To pull away from Len, Barry moved away, grabbing two bottles of wine and reaching into a different cooler and grabbing a few bunches of herbs including rosemary. Lots of rosemary. He opened the bottles of wine and grabbed a very large pitcher, placing the herbs in and topping it off with the red wine. Len watched carefully as Barry was no longer making eye contact again.

                As the three began to set up more and get everything for the night, Len helped Iris put the fabric up, letting it drape in equidistant sections across the stage. Every once in a while, the two would step back and look at it, wondering if it was in the right place or not. Finally, they worked something out to make it look nice.

                After a while, the other workers started to pour in. Caitlin and Ronnie came in and got themselves situated with helping set up tables and chairs. Cisco came in next, still with no Dante, and started to put his clarinet together and tune it.

                Finally, when the time came around, Len was at the piano, Cisco by his side, Ronnie up at the top of the stairs, Iris behind the bar, Caitlin close to her, and Barry backstage. It didn’t take long for patrons and payers to come into the place, the scent of gin and cigarettes or cigars filling the room. Len and Cisco played away as the night warmed up.

                When Barry came out onto the stage for the first time, Len felt his chest tighten when Barry and he made eye contact again. A wink, and a blown kiss. Flirting. When the song ended and the people drinking and hanging around calmed down from their applause, Barry came over and sat at the edge of the stage by Len and Cisco.

                “Perfect as always Scarlet,” Len commented.

                “Ooo…. Woah,” Cisco started as he looked towards the entrance. “ _Mamacita…_ who is that? She’s a new one.”

                Turning around, Len felt his throat tighten. Down she came. Sharp nose, high cheek bones, dark curly hair, gold eye shadow and the familiar scent of vanilla and orange. As she came down the stairs, it seemed they were the only three looking. She brushed a clump of stray hairs behind her ear before she turned towards Len and made eye contact.

                “Oooh man, I am so jealous of you right now,” Cisco started again. “She just looked at you!”

                “Don’t be…” Len returned.

                “Lenny?” the woman called out.

                It was her.

                Standing up, Len opened his arms as the woman came up to him and hugged him close. Quickly, he leaned to her ear.

                “They don’t know I’m a criminal, keep the danger and jail time non-existent, would you?” Len whispered loud enough for only her to hear. Pulling away from the hug, he gave a strained grin.

                “Lisa,” he said with a forced sense of happiness. “Good to see you, little sis.”

                “Sis?” Cisco and Barry both chimed in.

                “Yes, sister,” Len turned to the two with a furrowed brow and tight jaw. Cisco’s face went white. “Lisa, this is Cisco and Barry.”

                “Pleasure to meet you Barry,” Lisa smile, an almost exact smile that Len had as she shook his hand. “And Cisco, wow, Lenny you never told me you worked with cute young boys.”

                Len mentally slapped himself and gave a glare towards his sister who returned the glance. Cisco’s face went from white back to his tan, then to bright red.

                “Lisa, dear sister of mine,” the sharpness in his voice was palpable. “Why did you—“

                “Lenny!” she interrupted, placing a hand over her heart with an over-exaggerated pout on her lips. “Why did you never call me when you got back to Central City? I got a call from Mick but none from you! I even had lunch with Mick.”

                Well, she was telling the truth, which told him that Mick was doing well.

                “Got a new job, sis,” Len continued. “Why don’t you go tell Iris at the bar that I’ll pay for your drink. Come on back and you can listen to us put on something for you.”

                With a pout and a ‘hmph’, Lisa turned and whipped her curly hair around, letting it rest before moving towards the bar.

                “Your sister is _it_ ,” Cisco finally chimed in again, biting his knuckles as she walked away. “Think you can hook me up?”

                “No,” was Len’s response.

                As Lisa started walking back with a drink in hand, he started up playing again, Cisco joining in. As the two started playing, Barry got up and moved over to the stairs where another man was walking down, leading him over to the bar.

                “Hey Joe, so glad you made it tonight,” Barry grinned as they took a seat at the bar.

Iris walked over and leaned across the table and giving her father a kiss on the cheek. Pouring the spiced red wine with gin and a couple extra splashes of bitters, she shook it up and placed it in front of Joe.

                “You’re lucky you two make this taste good,” Joe started. “And you’ve got good music going on, otherwise I’d—“

                “You’d take us down and make sure we never saw alcohol again, Dad we know,” Iris interrupted. “You love us too much to do that.”

                “The drinks help sometimes,” he returned. The three gave a laugh as he took the first sip of his drink.

                “Oh! We didn’t tell you yet, we got a new pianist,” Iris smiled.

                “Yeah, Dante ran out since you’ve last been here,” Barry continued. “So now we have Len.”

                “He’s good,” Joe started. When he turned to look over at the pit, his eyes squinted some to get a decent look of the main at the piano. His eyes widened when he recognized Len’s face. He turned back and took a much larger mouthful of his drink, letting it burn the back of his throat and the inside of his nose.

                “Something wrong Joe?” Barry asked, taking a glance towards Len then back.

                “He just looked familiar is all!” Joe lied, giving a grin to the two. “Now, Iris, I’m not supposed to tell you, but I did want to warn you. Eddie’s got an early birthday gift for you.”

                “Oooh!” Iris squealed. “Oh I hope it’s those new shoes I’ve been eyeing!”

                “Hey, Joe, I gotta get back stage,” Barry grinned. “I’ll talk to you late tonight, yeah?”

                “Sure thing Bar’,” Joe smiled back. Once Barry was out of earshot, Joe turned back to his daughter.

                “That’s _Leonard Snart_ ,” he started. “As in _the Leonard Snart_. One of Central City’s biggest criminals and you just let him play the piano like this? In your joint? Iris I didn’t raise you to let criminals into your safe spaces.”

                “Dad, he hasn’t done anything to us,” Iris started. “I know who he was after a few nights of him working here, but he’s being equal about the pay, hasn’t stolen anything, hasn’t started any fights, nothing. Maybe that last time in Iron Heights fixed him up. This is my business, and right now, I trust him. To an extent.”

                “You best I don’t hear anything bad coming from you about him,” Joe continued. “Because the moment I get some form of bad mojo from him, I’m coming in with my men and shutting this place down. Got it?”

                “Dad, I hear your empty threats all the time,” Iris fought. “You won’t hear anythi—“

                “I mean it this time Iris,” Joe interrupted. “No empty threats. I don’t want you or Barry getting hurt. Got it?”

                “We can take care of ourselves Dad,” Iris smiled as she pushed the last of his drink towards him. “Want another to help with these threats?”

                “Yes, please.”

                There was a pause in music before Caitlin was back up on the stage, introducing Barry to the new comers. While Scarlet had been a nice nickname for the fastest scat singer in Central City, they had finally decided on the code name The Flash. The red suit stayed the same though.

                The song finished and Barry was back at the edge of the stage again with Cisco, Len and now Lisa. She was on her second drink and was smirking as she watched Barry and Len interact. She turned to Cisco and held up her drink, letting some of her hair fall in front of part of her face and gave him a very flirtatious look.

                “Cisco, baby,” she cooed. “Can you go get me another drink? Pretty please?”

                With a fluster and having Barry come with him, the two disappeared towards the bar. Lisa instantly looked over to her brother who was tapping away at the keys. She kept her glance on him, baring it into the side of his face.

                “What do you want Lisa?” he grumbled, focusing on the piano.

                “Well, I want to kiss Cisco ‘cause he’s cute,” she started. “And another drink, which is happening. But more importantly, I want to know why you’re flirting with that jazz boy. You carrying a torch?”

                “No,” Len spat.

                “Lennyyyyy,” she whined, bouncing in her chair for emphasis. “Stop being such a drag.”

                “Then stop being a train wreck,” he retorted.

                “No! And once you and him find something, or _do_ something, let me know because I want to hear _everything_.”

                Len gave a loud single laugh as he finished his piece. He spotted Cisco and Barry coming back from the bar, carrying a small drink.

                “Not unless you make me go broke first,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

                “And a short gin on the rocks for you, my darling,” Cisco stated as he handed the glass to Lisa. She gave a hum of approval as she took a sip from it.

                “It’s missing something,” she pouted.

                “Oh, the lime,” Cisco started. “Lemme go get that for you—“

                “No, it’s not that,” Lisa started as she stood and leaned over to press her lips to Cisco’s. “Ah! That’s better.”

                She downed the rest of her drink before placing the glass on stage by Barry. She fixed her hair and turned towards the stairs.

                “Thanks Cisco,” she winked. “See you around Lenny. I got what I wanted, hopefully you get what you want.”

                And with a blown kiss towards Cisco and a gently shoulder tap to Len, she was back up the stairs and out of the joint. Len turned towards Cisco, spotting his bright red face and shaking hands.

                The rest of the night, Cisco wouldn’t dry up about Lisa and their kiss. As the closing time neared, the patrons left and soon created an empty joint. It didn’t take too long for everyone to clean up and count drawers and tips for the night. Lisa’s tab ended up being more than Len expected and most of his tip money was gone by the end of it. High maintenance women, he thought as he put the last some odd cents into his pocket.

                There was no awful visit from that awful Wells man again. Three nights in a row the previous nights, Len was tempted to knock him out. Though the walk back to the apartment that he and Barry shared was quieter than Len wanted it to be. It wasn’t until they got into the complex that Len locked the door behind them.

                “You ready to talk yet?” Len started, making his way over to the singer who was trying to escape to his room.

                “I—“ Barry was cut off by a hand on his waist turning him around and pressing him against the wall.

                “Talk,” Len commanded.

                “Stop it,” Barry gulped.

                “Stop _what_?” Len frowned, rubbing his thumb into Barry’s hipbone. “You have to be more specific than that.”

                “Stop… flirting with me,” Barry tried, his face turned red.

                “Why?” Len returned, placing his over hand on the spot just below Barry’s ear and cupping it.

                “Because it… makes me feel…” Barry gulped again, looking down. Len leaned in close to his lips, hovering them over the singer’s and feeling the others breath hitch.

                “Feel _what_?” Len asked, bringing their bodies closer and letting their lips hover more. “ _Intimate_?”

                Barry’s breath hitched again.

                “Are… you going to kiss me?” he asked, voice soft.

                “Only if you’ll let me Scarlet.”

                There was a moment of hesitation. Once Barry nodded, Len’s lips were against the others, hot, passionate and a little forceful. Len tugged Barry’s face closer with the hand on his neck and pushed more into the kiss. The singer wrapped one arm around the older man’s neck and grabbed the collar of his suit jack to pull him closer.

                The two ended up partially naked in Barry’s bed with Len’s mouth on the singer’s throat and collarbone, leaving small marks and kisses on the warm skin. They didn’t go very far, at Barry’s uncertainty and inexperience to this sort of relationship.

                The night ended with Barry’s new bruises and him cuddling up next to Len’s side and since Len wasn’t much of cuddler Barry did all the work. It was Barry who fell asleep first, breathing slow and regulated as Len looked up at the ceiling for a while. When the youth cuddled closer in his sleep, Len finally closed his eyes.

                A month of flirting definitely paid off in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if each chapter will be this long. They might be. Who knows? Too much slang? Too little? Right about? EeehhhhH????


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